le;
even a purist must admit that one of the greatest charms of literature is
its infinite variety. But when book after book is filled with such
specimens of literary lunacy as this, one is tempted to believe that
Homer and Shakespeare, to say nothing of Thackeray and Hawthorne, have
lived in vain.

Never fear criticism of those who find fault with the absence from your
library of books that you know to be nearly worthless; their absence will
be a silent but eloquent protest against them, sure to be vindicated by
the utter oblivion into which they will fall. Many a flaming reputation
has been extinguished after dazzling callow admirers for six months, or
even less. Do not dread the empty sarcasm, that may grow out of the
exclusion of freshly printed trash, that your library is a "back number."
To some poor souls every thing that is great and good in the world's
literature is a "back number"; and the Bible itself, with its immortal
poetry and sublimity, is the oldest back number of all. It is no part of
your business as a librarian to cater to the tastes of those who act as
if the reading of endless novels of sensation were the chief end of man.
As one fed on highly spiced viands and stimulating drinks surely loses
the appetite for wholesome and nourishing food, so one who reads only
exciting and highly wrought fictions loses the taste for the
master-pieces of prose and poetry.

Let not the fear of making many mistakes be a bug-bear in your path. If
you are told that your library is too exclusive, reply that it has not
means enough to buy all the good books that are wanted, and cannot afford
to spend money on bad or even on doubtful ones. If you have excluded any
highly-sought-for book on insufficient evidence, never fail to revise the
judgment. All that can be expected of any library is approximately just
and wise selection, having regard to merit, interest, and moral tone,
more than to novelty or popularity.

In the matter of choice, individual opinions are of small value. Never
buy a book simply because some reader extols it as very fine, or
"splendid," or "perfectly lovely." Such praises are commonly to be
distrusted in direct proportion to their extravagance.

A good lesson to libraries is furnished in the experience of the
Cleveland (Ohio) Public Library. In 1878, out of 16,000 volumes in that
library, no less than 6,000 were novels. The governing board, on the
plea of giving people what they wanted, bought nea